


Mute

by thethingummything



Series: Undertale more like existential crises at 3am [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: And this is my brain splurge, First fanfiction about undertale, Gen, Is there a way to stop it from resetting at all?, It got me thinking, Like what would happen after all the possible endings are done, NOT AS LONG AS I KNOW HOW TO ENGLISH, People keep telling me to let undertale die, Post Ending, Sort of thing, no regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9695264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethingummything/pseuds/thethingummything
Summary: Recently I've been super obsessed with Undertale and I TOTALLY WANNA WRITE MORE ( he he Sansy I'm coming for you) /cough /coughBut this is a more of a stream of thoughts than a relationship thing sorry. But if you like it I'll be sure to do more!





	

“Hey kiddo,” said Sans as he sidled up to Frisk, who was busy colouring something on the desk. They looked up and grinned widely at Sans, acknowledging his presence by shoving their work of art into his hands.

 

“Wow hey, you're getting good at this! Flowey _doesn't_ look like Venus flytrap nightmare anymore.” Frisk nodded vigorously, and leaped off the high stool before running to their room.

 

Sans’ empty sockets followed after them, wondering sadly to himself what it would be like if Frisk could speak. Not that sign language on Frisk’s part was a problem, everyone had adapted to it, and it wasn't as though Frisk was deaf. It just seemed to Sans that having a voice was a major part of anyone’s identity. He celebrated the uniqueness of every different voice. Frisk was the first person, first _human_ at that to show up and start waving their small hands about in a cute manner that mostly translated to, ‘Hi, I can't speak, sorry.’

 

This was odd to Sans only because Frisk’s inability to vocate seemed questionable, and rather suspicious. Considering they still expressed some form of audible laughter or the other at his jokes, it seemed Frisk remained silent by, choice. (Much like celibacy, Sans pondered absently.) Sans didn't blame them of course, it was just _why_ they chose that life that Sans couldn't understand.

 

“HELLO DARLINGS,” said Mettaton, in his perky robotic underwater-like voice, standing in the way of Frisk’s dash. “FRISK, DO YOU WANT SOME OF MY FAMOUS METTATON PIE THAT I INVENTED YESTERDAY?” Frisk looked up at the overzealous robot and nodded eagerly.

 

“Don't just give them some strange food item, Frisk you don’t know where it’s been,” reprimanded Toriel.

 

“Bet it tastes like a _pie-_ l of shi- I mean garbage,” jested Sans.

 

Frisk let out a little giggle, and Mettaton let out as exasperated a sigh as a robot could. “That was your worst one yet, skeleton boy.”

 

Sans wasn't listening, he was too entranced by Frisk’s little peal of laughter, as he did ever so often, whenever he had the opportunity to hear their unheard voice. He felt a part of an esoteric secret whenever he did, and could never get enough of it.

 

The human child was wearing tiny overalls over their striped blue and pink shirt, a picture of untainted innocence, and this was after everything Frisk had been through. They had survived enemy after enemy by dodging, talking, flirting even, occasionally running away, and always sparing; except when it came to Asgore of course. He was alive, but Sans was probably the only one in the Underground who knew exactly the events that had occurred after Frisk had walked past him in the hall of judgement, (owing to his special, albeit unwanted, vision.) It wasn't Frisk’s fault, and he had no idea how Frisk was dealing with the situation. Not being able to speak meant not being able to let out one's emotions, not being able to form words and make some sense out of the events that have occurred. Sans knew a thing or two about being forced to remain quiet, and could only be empathetic when it came to Frisk.

 

However...

 

Sans was weak, he knew that well enough, and so did Papy. There was no telling if the human did. Not in this timeline at least - being omnipresent and switching between timelines was confusing enough on its own, he barely knew where he was at any given point when he woke up from a quick nap - he could only guess that the pacifist nature was one that occurred in the very beginning. Had this particular ending not been a first for Frisk, then Sans only had his lucky souls to thank that Frisk hadn't decided to turn everyone he loved into dust. It was an oddly bizarre and existential feeling, that of knowing that whichever timeline he woke up in after an involuntary nap would be at the mercy of someone who didn't look older than nine. How could a nine year old harbour such homicidal sentiments anyway?

 

Sans watched as Mettaton whispered something into where Papyrus’ ear was supposed to be, and it seemed to make the skeleton seem to blush through his collagen cheek bones. Sans was most probably overthinking this. Who could blame him? He spent every night praying and hoping he didn't have to fight anyone, hoping that he didn't wake up to a nightmare… hoping he could just dream for once without fearing for its permanency. In fact, he was starting to feel a bit tired, maybe just a quick nap on the kitchen table…

 

-

 

 _Oh no_.

 

“Kids like you…”

 

 _Oh god why_ …

 

“ **Should be burning in hell.** ”

 

_I just kept my eyes closed for a bit…_

 

Glowing red eyes behind the short brown bangs could only mean one thing, that Chara had taken over and was ready to fight as Frisk.

 

_I hate this, I hate this, I hate this…_

 

His world seemed to falling apart, as he looked into the familiar face of the child that had drawn a cute picture of something remotely resembling a talking flower was now ready to die as many times as was required to get past him. He wondered what he had done to deserve this as he put forward his first attack. He could feel the words coming out of his mouth mechanically, almost like a habit, like he was reciting a poem he learnt as a child.

 

“Huh. Always wondered why people never use their strongest attack first.”

 

Fri- Chara’s teeth was bared, they looked far to sharp and canine to be that of a human's. With every dodge, she seemed to be growing bigger, more animalistic, more disfigured. There was a shadow cast upon her face that made it hard to see her expression. Sans was starting to panic. This had never happened before. By his fifth attack, she was most definitely not human anymore, he could only see the silhouette of whatever monster she had turned into… something with claws, gigantic limbs, several rows of teeth, and a… television box?

 

“ **It was me all along**.”

 

_Stop it Frisk, you're scaring me._

 

The moment his attack was over, the dust started settling.

 

“ **Could you have ever guessed?** ”

 

The light of the setting sun shone upon the creature.

 

_I'm scared._

 

“ **IT'S ME,** ” said a several voices at once, as what was supposed to be Flowey’s ultimate form, but with Chara’s sadistic smile and glowing red eyes glared down at him.

 

“ **Y O U R  W O R S T  N I G H T M A R E .** ”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

_Sans…_

 

_Wake up!_

 

_It's all just a bad dream!_

 

_It's me, Frisk!_

 

_You're safe now._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

“Frisk?”

 

The daylight had nearly almost vanished, leaving only a dim lantern-like glow in it's wake, within which he saw Frisk’s worried expression above him. Sans seemed to have fallen off the chair and was now lying on the kitchen floor, his clothes soaked in his freezing sweat. The house was quiet, except for the distant sound of the waterfall.

 

“I'm so sorry, Sans…” they said, bursting into tears and sobbing into his sky blue hoodie.

 

_They're… speaking?_

 

“I never should've let you suffer as much as you've had to… I'm so sorry, Sans, this is all my fault.”

 

“Frisk, what are you talking about?”

 

Frisk looked up with swollen, teary eyes.

 

“I could've stopped this, your nightmares, the changing timelines… I could've stopped it a long time ago, but I… I didn't know. I couldn't make up my mind. Chara kept telling me one thing, but my heart kept saying another. I just… I just couldn't bring myself to put it all to an end.”

 

“Frisk,” said Sans affectionately, putting his phalanges on their cheek. “It's alright, it's not like you could do anything about it.”

 

“No you don't understand!” They cried. Sans was taken aback. This was the most he'd ever heard them say. “I could've! _I could've!_ I could've…” they ended weakly, after the initial outburst.

 

Frisk's voice was different from Chara’s, in the same way a well tuned piano was different from, say, a broken harpsichord. Frisk’s voice was pleasant and soothing to the ear, he felt almost immediately relaxed when he first heard it. When Frisk had stopped crying, they looked up at Sans, with a determined expression.

 

“Sans, come with me,” they said, with a sense of finality. “It's about time I did something I should've done a long time ago.”

 

They held his hand and the both of them apparitioned into a dark room. He recognised it as the kind that battles were usually held in, but it was different this time. He could see two glowing indiscernible objects in the distance, and Frisk’s destination seemed to be located there. They walked for a long time, holding each other’s hands, Frisk’s grasp firmer than his, almost as though he might disappear if they didn't (which wasn't an unfounded fear, if he was going to be honest.) The objects soon started taking shape as they grew closer, two floating texts in rectangular boxes, one of which said ‘continue’ and the other ‘true reset’. It shiver went down Sans’ spine: he was seeing something no one had, and no one should. Finally, they reached the blue texts. Frisk, seemingly reluctantly, let go of Sans’ hand, and took out a worn dagger from their pocket.

 

“I'm sorry I hadn't done this earlier, Sans. You should know, I'm doing this because I now know I love you, and Papy, and goat mom, and Undyne, and Alphy, and Metty more than I could love anyone else in the world. All of you _mean_ the world to me. I couldn't bear to live in a world without the lot of you.” Frisk looked at their dagger timidly, yet decidedly. Sans’ suspicions were confirmed, this wasn't the first time Frisk had come by him. “But most of all, I'm doing this to end your suffering. I know you didn't ask for the burden of your power and the responsibility that came with it. But now, now is when it stops. I don't want to you hurt in silence anymore, I don't want you to hurt at all.”

 

  
Having said that, it seemed to Sans that Frisk was a bit too hasty about jabbing at the ‘true reset’ text with full force, effectively shattering into dull, colourless bits.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests regarding undertale (any type of fanfic tbh, specify and I shall write) then I'd be more than glad to write it (if I see it is within my writing capabilities, I am no veteran) thanks!


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